The Sky is Darkest Just Before Sunrise
by FlyingMonkeyofOz
Summary: I have not always been someone of importance. In fact, for the better part of my life I have acted as a faceless member of society, moving of my own accord but failing to create ripples in the sea around me. It was not until recently that people began to notice me and the only reason they have done so is due to the chaos that I have created. Finnick/OC
1. Chapter 1- I Know You

**Hola Everyone!**

**This idea has been swirling around in my brain for the better part of two months, and since my muse for my other story has been decidedly quiet as of late so I decided to get this story started. I can't promise when updates will be, but hopefully they won't be too long. Let me know what you think!**

**Some Basic Info on my O/C:**

_Name: Cassie Klein _

_Age: 18_

_District: 4_

_Year: 69th Hunger Games_

_*I think I covered everything else pretty well in the chapter, but let me know if I missed something you want to know. _

* * *

**Chapter One- I Know You**

**Cassie POV**

A joyous squeal echoes down the beach as children play in the gentle surf, their tinny feet scurrying just out of the water's reach. Boats bob on the distant horizon and seagulls glide on the ocean breeze. This is home, this is District 4.

Despite our label of being a Career District, it is relatively peaceful here. The people are kind, hardworking, and honest- most of the time anyway. There are a select few who wish nothing more than to have their chance in the infamous Hunger Games- we call them Careers. They are a brutal bunch of bloodthirsty teenagers, willing to alienate anyone for their own gain. I _**hate**_ them.

I had a friend once who became a Career. He said that it wouldn't change him, but that was a lie. Not a month into training he began to ignore me, claiming that I "wasn't good enough" to hang with him and the others. His betrayal still haunts me, though I tend not to dwell on it.

I am brought from my thoughts by a gentle hand that tentatively brushes against the hem of shirt. Quickly I look down to see my little sister, Odessa, her crystalline blue eyes staring up into my storm grey ones.

"Sissy," she whines, impatiently tugging on my shirt again, "I want to go home. I'm hungry."

I laugh gently and sweep her up into my arms, a smile tugging at the corners of my mouth. "You're hungry? But you just ate, Little Fish!"

She crosses her skinny arms across her chest in an annoyed manner. "I'm hungry _**again**_, Cassie."

I sigh, blowing my bangs out of my eyes. "Fine we'll go home," I respond in a playful tone. "But it'll cost ya."

"What'll it cost me?" she asks her eyes growing wide.

"Hmmm, how 'bout a kiss?"

"A kiss?" Odessa laughs. "Fine, that's not _**sooo**_ bad."

"Not _**sooo**_ bad?" I respond with a questioning gaze. "You would think giving your awesome big sis a kiss would be a treat not a punishment."

I am surprised when the four year old rolls her eyes and says in a somewhat sarcastic tone, "You're not _**that**_ awesome Cassie, but you do have your perks."

Before I have time to respond a feminine voice sounds from behind me. "Kid's got spunk, Cass."

Shortly thereafter, my best friend Marissa Kennedy falls into step beside me with her hazel eyes sparkling in amusement. She is shorter than I am at just 5'4", but what she lacks in height she makes up for with curves. Her hair is a soft copper that makes my own pale blonde seem dull in comparison. Overall, Marissa is extremely beautiful and I cannot deny that I envy her.

"Marissa!" Odessa squeals in excitement, wiggling from my arms to run towards the fiery young woman. "I learned how to make a fish hook today, Jace taught me!"

The mention of a distinctly male name catches me off guard, causing me to quirk my eyebrow upwards in a questioning manner. "And who might this "Jace" fellow be?"

My younger sister's face turns red with embarrassment and she looks at her hands with a sheepish grin. "He's a friend."

"A friend, hmmm?"

Marissa laughs at my protective manner. "Don't interrogate the poor girl, Cass. If I remember correctly you and a certain someone used to be quite close."

"That was a mistake," I growl in annoyance, "One that I don't plan on making again."

"Sorry, I didn't mean to upset you," Marissa says, holding her hands up in a submissive manner.

I wave my hand dismissively. "It's fine. So, what are you wearing to tonight's festivities?"

"I don't know probably the same thing I wear every other day," she says sorrowfully. "Money's been tight lately ever since my dad died."

I nod in understanding. Marissa's father was presumed dead five months ago when he failed to return from work. It is assumed that he perished at sea, most likely caught in a storm that his small fishing boat could not handle. My own father met a similar demise three years ago and ever since my family has been struggling.

"You'll still be pretty!" Odessa exclaims hoping to give my best friend some comfort.

"Thanks Ode."

After that, our small group falls into companionable silence only breaking it to say our farewells as Odessa and I's house comes into view. It lies in the poorest housing district on the outskirts of town where crime runs rampant. Gangs are known to roam the streets at night as well as the Careers. Most of the time my mother refuses to leave the house unless she is given notice of available work, forcing me to find creative ways to support our family. I can't say I blame her though.

The house itself is in a state of disrepair. Its windows are broken and the steel walls have begun to rust through. An old, decrepit bike lays forgotten in the overgrown front yard- a relic to the happy life we once lived.

As we approach the splintered front door it creaks open to reveal the weathered face of my mother. She has sea-green eyes and wild, red hair that is now streaked with grey. In her youth she was beautiful, but the woman now standing before me is hunched over from years of hard labor and malnutrition. Wrinkles crease her once smooth forehead and gather around her mouth.

Still, she manages to give us a smile and pulls Odessa from my arms to plant a gentle kiss on her chubby cheek. "How was the beach today, girls."

I shrug my thin shoulders in response, moving towards the door to bolt the many locks. "It was the same as it always is- busy. Apparently Odessa had fun though," I say with a teasing smirk.

My mother's eyebrows rise in a similar fashion to my own as she careens her head to look at my younger sister. "What did you do today, Little Fish?"

Odessa smiles proudly, "I learned how to make a fish hook!"

"Oh, she did a lot more than learn how to make a fish hook," I say suggestively.

"Cassie Klein!" my mother exclaims whacking me over the head with a rolled newspaper in a teasing manner, "Your sister is four, not fourteen. I'm sure if that if she met a boy nothing happened, at least not in the manner you are insinuating, young lady."

I roll my eyes, bounding out of striking distance. "You never know especially with how kids act nowadays."

"Should I be worried?" my mother asks, placing a hand on her hip expectantly. "Last time I checked you were the teenager of the bunch."

"No!"

My mother laughs gently, "I was only teasing Cassie, and I know you're a respectable young lady."

I chuckle uneasily, smoothing out the invisible wrinkles on my shirt to avoid having "the talk" that my mother is always so intent on initiating.

"Cassie," she says gently, "you know I love you right?"

I nod my head vigorously, slightly taken aback by mother's sudden change in demeanor. "Mom, is everything alright?"

"Yes and no," My mother responds hesitantly. "You have more names in that bowl than anyone else, probably in the entire district, Cass. How could I not be afraid? On the other hand, I am proud of you and everything you have done for this family. Without you we would've starved long ago."

"You make me sound like some sort of saint," I laugh cynically.

"I'm not entirely certain you're not."

* * *

**Later**

My face twists into a scowl as I look at myself in the full length mirror hanging in the hall. The plain, white cotton dress I wear hangs on my slender frame making me look ridiculous. My platinum blond hair hangs in straight sheets down to the small of my back, framing the sharp planes of my face. I am plain, entirely forgettable in the sea of beautiful faces that dwell in District 4. The only redeeming quality I have is my ethereal silver eyes and even they look strange with my features.

My mother smiles at me from the other side of the room and tosses a tattered piece of rope at me. "Tie that around your waist Cass, it'll help make it fit a little better," she says.

"Mom," I reply with a barely concealed scowl, "I don't think this thing would fit if I was the fattest person in District 4."

"It's the best I could do Cassie. At least you have something to wear." She remarks with a sad sigh. "I know it's hard to believe, but some people are worse off than we are."

"I know that, it's just…."

"You wish things were the way they used to be," my mother offers knowingly.

When said aloud the statement seems selfish and I can't help but duck my head in shame. It could be worse. I could be living on the streets. I could have no family. I could be in the Hunger Games. A shudder passes through me at the mere thought of the Games. There is no worse fate than being doomed to die on a television show with the whole country watching.

"I miss Dad…"

She sighs, moving behind me to brush my hair over my shoulder with a loving smile. "I miss him too, Cass. It's difficult to look at Odessa and see so much of him reflected in her, especially knowing that she doesn't even remember him. But we have to keep living, no matter how much it hurts."

"I know."

"I know that you know," my mother responds, tapping me on the forehead, "but the real question is, do you believe it?"

I shrug my shoulders uncertain on how to answer her question, if she even expects one at all. Currently I would answer yes, but there is only so much pain and heartache people take before they snap. And I do not know how I would respond then.

* * *

A loud bang echoes across the sky as a firework erupts into a colorful display of sparks overhead. People cheer in awe as the image disappears from the sky, the ashes falling lazily into the ocean. I've only been out here for a matter of minutes and my hair already smells heavily of sulfur and smoke- two things that do not go well together.

The Careers sit gathered around the fountain in the middle of town hoisting a burgundy colored drink to their lips in unison, some of them are only thirteen years old. My friend sits at the head of the group his amber colored eyes clouded from the effects of the alcohol. This year he'll be the oldest Career making him obligated to volunteer if a civilian is reaped. If he doesn't follow through with his oath he will be seen as a failure- not that I care, I must remind myself.

This is my last year of eligibility for the Hunger Games and I can only pray that I will skate by unscathed. If all goes well, I will be able to choose my job and graduate from school. Then, I can provide my family with enough money to get back on our feet. I have been waiting for this year for as long as I can remember, but now that it's here all I can think of is the possibility of falling victim to the Games.

Before I can totally succumb to my melancholy thoughts, Marissa comes bounding forward from the masses of people. Her petite form is clad in an expensive sea-green dress that fits like a second skin. If I had to guess the lavish garment probably cost her mother their entire year's savings. Marissa doesn't seem to be all that worried though.

Her eyes sparkle with excitement as she grabs my arm dragging me towards the droves of people lining the beach. "Cass, did you see that last firework? It was _**AMAZING**_!"

"Personally I'd prefer more bang than sparkle," I respond while throwing in jazz hands for added effect, "and that last one had a shit load of sparkle."

Marissa rolls her eyes at me before pulling me into the crowd of people dancing along the boardwalk.

I laugh and shake my head in refusal, "I can't dance, Marissa!"

"I can't dance my ass! You're the best damn dancer out there!"

"Maybe for formal dancing, yes, but this," I say gesturing to the grinding bodies around us, "….not so much."

Marissa gives me a dismissive wave of her hand. "It's not that hard you just have to shake your hips a little."

"Shake my hips a little?" I respond skeptically. "What hips?"

"Your hips, silly."

"I don't have these **"**_**hips"**_ you speak of, Marissa."

She rolls her eyes at me playfully and bumps her curvy hip into my bony one. "See, you have them," she laughs. "Now use them."

I watch enviously as Marissa dives into the bodies around her and begins to move her hips in perfectly fluid motions. The surrounding men eye her with longing, abandoning the girls they were previously dancing with to watch my friend.

For a brief moment I contemplate joining her, but then I am reminded that I look more like a skeleton than an actual woman. Sure, I have decently sized breasts and an hourglass figure but the rest of my body lacks the softness that men find attractive. The years of fishing and swimming have turned my body into a lean and powerful machine- practical but not pretty.

With a longing sigh I push my way between people back out into the square. It is less noisy out here and the air is cleaner for once. A few older couples mill quietly about the street their feeble hands locked together tightly. The Careers have vacated the fountain leaving behind only empty bottles of whisky and vodka.

As I stroll down the street I can feel a pair of eyes on me, though I refuse to acknowledge them. I clutch the hem of my dress to quell the shaking of my pale hands. It makes me nervous when people watch me because I know that they are picking over every flaw they see. I am too pale, too skinny, and too tall. My hair is dull, my eyes strange, and my features severe.

I am so lost in my internal musings that I don't notice the solid wall of muscle in front of me until I've collided with it. Angrily I clutch my nose and begin to curse like a sailor, all the while hopping around on one foot. After a few moments the wall begins to bellow with laughter much to my chagrin.

"Stop it!" I growl throwing my sandal at the mass of golden hair shaking with laughter.

"I'm sorry," it laughs clutching at its muscular sides, "your reaction was just incredibly amusing."

"Oh, I'm sure it was considering you didn't just run smack dab into a man with a brick wall for a chest!"

Said man eventually manages to compose himself and brushes his gorgeous, golden tresses from his face revealing incredible sea-green eyes and the most recognizable face in all of Panem.

"Shit."

Finnick Odair's eyebrows shoot to his hairline at the sudden use of the familiar expletive before settling into a confused furrow over his mesmerizing eyes. "That's not the usual reaction I get. Granted, neither is someone throwing their shoe at me."

"Well if you were expecting me to roll over and ask for sex think again, buck-o," I respond with a scowl, patting the attractive victor's shoulder as I make to move around him.

"Wait," he exclaims running to catch up with me, "I haven't even gotten your name?"

"My name is of little consequence," I mutter with a dismissive wave of my pale hand.

The handsome victor eyes me with curiosity before aiming his gaze at the nearly empty street ahead of us. When he responds his tone is calculating but not unkind, and his question is simple but hard to answer. "Why would you say that?"

In my head a I am able to form a full explanation describing my inadequacy when compared to a being of his stature and reputation, but before I can get the words from my mouth a muttered, "I don't know," escapes me.

"You don't know?" Finnick responds skeptically.

"That's not what I meant to say," I exclaim, throwing my hands into the air. "I don't matter, that's why you shouldn't need my name or even wants it for that matter. Plus, I am not even pretty."

"Why so critical of yourself?"

I narrow my eyes at him and increase my pace to put more distance between us. "I do not have to answer your endless questions, _Finnick Odair_. Believe it or not, I have better things to do."

"What, like watching your friend grind against complete strangers?"

"No. Unlike some people, I have to work tomorrow or my family will starve so I'm going home to get a good night's rest," I sneer.

"You're a terrible liar," Finnick remarks, trapping me against the wall with his muscular body, "tomorrow's reaping day- no one works."

I laugh cynically. "I never said I was doing anything _**legal**_, Finnick."

"So you work on the black market?" he asks cautiously. "You don't look like someone who would work on the opposite side of the law."

"Desperation will make people do crazy things."

"You have no idea."

"I think I have a better clue than most of the other floozies in this District," I scowl while pushing Finnick away from me.

"Perhaps you do, but you'll never know the horrors of the Games."

My face scrunches up with worry at the mention of the Games and my hands immediately fly to the hem of my dress. "I'm not clear yet, Finnick. But I hope you are right."

His face softens considerably and he backs away from me. "I should let you get home then, spending time with your family is the most important thing you can do."

"Thanks, Finnick," I say with a nearly imperceptible nod of my head before turning to jog down the street.

* * *

**Finnick POV**

For a moment I stand there watching the girl's retreating back before bending down to pick up her abandoned sandal. Scrolled across the bottom in faded marker is the familiar name Cassie Klein. Horrified I scan the name over and over, not wanting it to be real.

I clutch the shoe to my chest in agony, allowing my back to slide down the brick wall of the building behind me. Even after all these years she still doesn't remember me…

_*Flashback*_

_A young Cassie tears down the beach at breakneck speed her beautiful platinum blonde hair flying behind her. Adam runs side-by-side with me egging her on, "You won't do it Cassie, you won't jump! You're too chicken!"_

_Her peal of laughter is the only answer we get as she increases her pace, barreling towards the cliff. _

_I know it's stupid of us to bait her in to jumping, but the adrenaline rushing through my veins drowns out all reasoning. Pretty soon my own breathless voice joins Adam's in cheering on Cassie's reckless course. _

_Just as she reaches the edge, an old man looks up from his own musings about a hundred yards down the beach. His weathered face is horrified as Cassie launches herself over the edge. "No! NO! You stupid, stupid child! Why did you do that?"_

_We skid to a halt at the edge our curious faces peering over the edge at the violent surf below. The old man rushes up to us screaming frantically for help. For a moment I don't understand why he's so worried, but then it dawns on me- Cassie still hasn't come up for air. _

_*End Flashback* _

"Oh Cassie," I moan, clutching my golden hair in pain, "I'm so, so sorry…"

* * *

**Alrighty, what'd ya think? **

**I hope it wasn't too unbearable, and I promise things will become infinitely more clear in the next chapter. **

**Follows and reviews are greatly appreciated! **

**-FlyingMonkeyofOz**


	2. Chapter 2- Good Morning District 4!

**Hola!**

**Here's chapter two! I know that my District 4 may not exactly fit the cannon but I wanted to portray it in a darker, grittier fashion with crime and conspiracy. Let me know what you think, hopefully I haven't take too much creative liberty...**

**Also here's a brief character bio for Cassie:  
**

**Name: Cassie Klein**

**Eye Color: Silver**

**Hair Color: Platinum Blonde**

**Hair Type: Long and Straight**

**Body Type: Skinny with natural curves i.e. curvature of hips and abdomen (bordering the emaciated side of things) **

**Height: 5'7"**

**Preferred Weapon: N/A**

* * *

**Chapter Two- Good Morning District 4! **

The rising sun bathes the vacant streets of District 4 in a soft pink light as I make my way towards the Outpost. It's an old warehouse nestled deep within the vast expanse of woods that stretch from the outskirts of town to the gate- it may not be pretty but it is practical. Adam Johnson runs the place. And I'll tell you, he's a vile man- about as bad as any out there. Some even say that he's killed a few of his thieves, but I think that might just be a rumor. I've been working here for ages and I've never seen anyone killed. Beaten yes, but not killed.

Mr. Johnson is many things but he is by no means stupid. He values those of us with talent and rewards his most loyal with small, often valuable trinkets. I'm lucky to be in his inner circle. Just last week I was rewarded with an expensive gold Mockingjay pin which I then sold to a peacekeeper headed for District 12. It's rumored that it once belonged to the tribute Maysilee Donner, but I don't know if that's anything more than speculation.

As I near the rundown warehouse I can hear the rambunctious laughter of the teenagers inside, all preparing to make their final runs before the Reaping. Two burly men stand beside the door armed with ancient looking rifles. Their steely eyes stare me down as I approach.

I throw the men a confident smirk as I pass and pat their broad shoulders. "Hey boys, good to see y'all are still kicking."

The only response I get is a muffled grunt as I push my way through the door. Once inside, I am greeted by a chorus of voices, each asking me a different question.

"How's it going Cassie?"

"What's your next job Cassie?"

"Are you scared for the Reaping, Cassie?"

The questions are never ending, not to mention extremely annoying. A person can only hear their name so many times before going mad and I've reached breaking point. Still, I do my best to answer each of the questions with a smile as I move to the back of the building where Mr. Johnson can be seen hunched over a pile of papers.

His broad shoulders lie bare of any clothing and a tattoo of a reptilian creature can be seen weaving its way down his muscular back. As though sensing my presence, he turns on his heels and claps his large hands together with a wolfish smile. "Ah! My dear Cassie, I was wondering when you would grace us with your presence again. It has been remarkably slow this week in your absence."

"I've been busy," I respond in a neutral tone, being careful to keep eye contact.

"So I've heard. According to my connections, you were seen with a certain Finnick Odair last night."

Immediately my body tenses. "Why would that mean anything to you?"

Mr. Johnson's eyebrows rise in surprise at the venom that seeps through my voice before falling into a furrow over his ominous-looking blue eyes. "It seems you forget your place, Cassie Klein. _You are mine_."

"I do not belong to you!" I bellow in anger. "You are my employer, not my fucking boyfriend or something!"

"So feisty," he responds with a sonorous laugh, moving to pin my body against the wall. "It looks as though you've forgotten the terms of our agreement Ms. Klein. Should I remind you?"

"I don't need reminding," I growl. "However, I do need you to get off of me so I can do my job."

Slowly he pushes away from me and moves back towards the table, sifting through the mountain of papers as he does so. After a few moments, he turns to me with a large grin upon his attractive features and tosses a dirty scrap of paper at me.

Upon catching the unusual article of parchment, I am horrified to find that it has a slimy texture and toss it across the warehouse with an uncharacteristically girlish shriek of disgust.

"Great, now I'm going to have to spend half the day searching through boxes to find that ridiculous piece of paper," Mr. Johnson replies with a scowl. "Was there no instinct in your head that told you to simply read the damn thing instead of flinging it like a Frisbee?"

I throw my hands in the air with an exasperated sigh, "I didn't know it was going to be slimy! You could've given me a little bit of warning."

"Well where's the fun in that, Ms. Klein?"

"Not having to look for it should be payment enough," I respond irritably.

He gives a shrug and returns to rifling through the papers. "You know Ms. Klein, today marks your last year of eligibility for the Games. Should things go well I can provide you with a more permanent job with larger _benefits_."

I scowl in disgust. "What do you mean by benefits, Mr. Johnson? For, I surely hope that you don't intend to compromise my honor."

"You speak so strangely sometimes….,"He replies with a shake of his head, refusing to answer my question.

"Answer me."

"I don't think I will," Mr. Johnson replies with a laugh. "You are so much fun to annoy."

"Whatever," I snarl moving to the opposite side of the room, "just tell me my next job so I can get out of here."

"Fine," the infuriating man responds with a glare, "here's the job dossier. And please try not to screw this up!"

"Yeah, yeah, I know how this whole song and dance goes you don't have to remind me. I'll get it done without a hitch like always do, Mr. Johnson."

"I wouldn't be so confident, Ms. Klein. This is a _very_ special job."

"What do you mean?" I ask curiously, my eyebrows quirking upwards.

"You have two eyes read it yourself!"

"Jeez no need to be touchy, Mr. Johnson," I respond with a slight smirk, delicately moving to open the folder. Upon reading the target of my next job, all the color drains from my face. "You're crazy! This could get me _killed or worse_! Do you have any idea the implications this could have on my family if it backfires?"

"Of course I understand the risks involved, Ms. Klein; I do after all run this place. However, you are the only person under my employment skilled enough to do this job. I have no choice but to send you."

Quickly I scan the room blurting out the name of the first kid I see. "Frankie! You could send him. He's got a lot of talent; this job could help foster that."

Mr. Johnson looks at me skeptically. "Frankie….he's like what….five years old, Cassie. Surely you can come up with a better solution than that."

"He's not five, he's ten," I respond a little too quickly.

"Well that makes it acceptable then. Come on, Cassie, really! Do you think I'm so heartless that I'd send a ten year old on a virtual suicide mission?"

"Ah ha! So you admit that it's a suicide mission!"

"For a ten year old it is, but for an experienced thief such as you it should not be difficult."

"Come on; please just give me a break this once! I don't want to do this."

"Too bad," He responds with a scowl, "You're doing this job whether you like it or not. Come back when you've completed your assignment."

* * *

**Later**

My feet feel like lead as I approach the manicured lawn of the Head Peacekeeper's house and a light sheen of sweat coats my forehead. Soft puffs of water vapor burst from my mouth with each breath, illuminated by the rays of sunlight filtering through the heavy fog that has settled along the boardwalk. A few people walk by every-now-and-then, casting sideways glances at my shadowed face.

Never before in my life have I felt such a sense of foreboding as I do now. The entire setting just seems horribly wrong. There are so many variables that I cannot account for. Is Head Peacekeeper Crane still asleep? Is he armed? Does he have security? The dossier failed to answer so many questions.

Unlike most of my previous assignments, the details regarding this particular one are extremely vague. The only objective stated was to steal a valuable family heirloom hidden away inside an ancient mahogany chest on the second floor. I don't even know what mahogany looks like!

With a dejected sigh I move around the back of the house, looking for the best way to reach my destination. The front door will obviously not be an option and neither will the back. However, there is a rather conveniently placed garden lattice that runs up the side of the house just beneath one of the windows. The jump to the ledge is quite large, but I think I can manage. The hard part will be finding a way to pry the window open.

Quickly I look towards the small shed at the back of the property. Its brick walls are covered in an unsightly green mold and the windows are boarded up- a stark contrast with the rest of the immaculate estate. The old building's only saving grace is its lack of security, allowing me easy access to the tools inside.

However, upon entering I am shocked to find a stunning lack of tools and an even more surprising amount of high-end technology lining the walls. The soft whirring of computers hard at work fills the air as does the scent of cleanly cut paper.

My mind is working a thousand miles an hour at this point, unable to grasp the fact that this seemingly endless stretch of work cubicles could fit so neatly inside of an old, rundown shed- Head Peacekeeper Crane's shed to be more precise. The whole idea is completely mind boggling, but then again this is most likely a Capitol design and they've never been what I'd classify as normal.

Suddenly the sound of heels clicking softly against the tile floor reaches my ears, sending me diving towards the nearest bookcase for cover. Not a second after I've hidden a pink haired Capitolian woman strides into the room softly humming an unfamiliar tune. Her cat-like green eyes scan the innumerable screens lining the walls before she turns on her heel and motions towards the shadows.

Hesitantly another Capitolian emerges, this time an orange haired man with surprisingly green eyebrows. He shakes his head meekly and runs a bony hand through his untamed tresses. "I don't like coming to the Districts, Farae. The people here are barbarians! Did you see the way they dress? It's absolutely appalling."

The woman shakes her head irritably. "It's really not that bad, Lucan. We could've pulled a far worse District. Take Twelve for example, they hardly look like human beings out there."

"I suppose you are right," Lucan responds slowly, "but that still doesn't mean I like it here."

"You don't have to, as long as you get the job done."

"Do you really think we can make victors out of these…._kids_," The man growls gesturing to the empty space around him. "They won't stand a chance against the better trained Careers from Districts 1 and 2."

Farae turns sharply on Lucan with an exasperated sigh. "If you think like that then there really is no hope. We have to try at the very least. They deserve a fair chance, just like everyone else."

"Fine, I can see the sense behind your reasoning but don't expect me to start being all rainbows and sunshine, Farae."

"I never expected that of you," She says with a chuckle, looking towards the clock on the wall behind me with an impatient look on her strangely pale face. "Where is this Mr. Crane? He was supposed to meet us here five minutes ago to run through the procedure."

"Probably sleeping like any other sane person."

Farae softly scoffs the older man's sarcastic attitude once again looking at the clock. "I suppose we could go look for him, it would look bad to be late for the broadcast."

Slowly the Capitolians gather up their things and recede back into the shadows, eventually exiting the building. Once the door closes I wait I few more moments before moving out of my hiding spot to investigate. At this point I know I won't be able to complete my assignment, but returning empty handed is not an option. I must find something useful.

Hesitantly I approach one of the empty cubicles and begin to shuffle through the drawers of the desk. After failing to find anything of consequence in several desks I am about to give up, but decide upon searching a few more office areas.

The next one I travel to looks to be empty, though a few old files lay open upon the chipped surface of the desk as does a faded photograph of a bronze haired man with piercing hazel eyes. With a tired sigh I bend down and slide the rickety drawer open as gently as I can. An irritable growl passes my lips as I look upon the empty cavern.

However, just as I am about to close the door a few stray pieces of paper catch my eye prompting me to reach out and grasp them. The old articles of loose-leaf paper feel brittle in my bony hands and the ink scrolled across them has faded with the years. Fortunately, I can still make out the majority of their contents, which are astounding to say the least.

The letters chronicle a series of plans to create a small resistance force within District 4, sometimes even hinting at efforts in other Districts to the same. However, as the time progresses the sender grows noticeably more paranoid, believing herself to be at the center of a Capitol conspiracy to instill fear in the people of the Districts. The last entry is filled with riddles and strange words that I've never seen before; the handwriting is also visibly shakier. Each note is addressed to a man simply named, Jonah. Funny thing is Jonah isn't a traditional District 4 name it's more common in the outlying Districts. In fact, I don't think I've ever met a Jonah.

Slowly I look up to the empty room around me, suddenly feeling incredibly small in the face of something that I can't even begin to fathom- an Uprising, one that appeared well organized until its demise. I've never heard of something like this surfacing nor have there been any public executions during the recent past leading me to believe these letters are incredibly old. Well, at least older than eighteen years.

I only hope this will suffice for Mr. Johnson. If not, my ass is grass and he's the lawn mower.

* * *

**So what did you think?**

**Seriously, let me know! I'll love you forever lol. **

**The Wonderful,**

**FlyingMonkeyofOz**


	3. Chapter 3- One Foot in the Grave

**Sorry that it's been awhile since I updated I've been running around like a chicken with my head cut off. This is a pretty short chapter but I didn't want you guys to have to wait for a longer one so here it is! Hopefully things will begin to slow down a little bit so I can dedicate more time to writing. I haven't updated my other story in months! **

**Ugh...stupid time. My parents never told me I couldn't add hours to the day to get everything done ;-)**

* * *

**Chapter Three- One Foot in the Grave and the Other in Hell**

The sound of Odessa's laughter fills the stale air swirling about our dingy home as I analyze my haggard appearance in the mirror. My ethereal eyes are wide, almost fearful in appearance, and a long cut bleeds profusely on my cheek. To anyone else I might have looked crazy but to myself I just look like a frightened teenage girl.

Let's just say Mr. Johnson was not happy with my empty-handed return. Before I could scarcely utter a word he slapped me across the face with a quick but powerful blow. I tossed the papers on the desk and ran outta there like a bat from the depths of hell. Granted, I felt like one at the time.

Now it's time for the Reaping- time to pretend like I haven't just uncovered the biggest secret in the history of Panem or attempted to steal from the Head Peacekeeper himself. I don't know if I will be able to pull off a convincing act when all I can do is stare at the Capitolians as though they can provide some sort of answer, but I will have to try nonetheless.

I am brought from my racing thoughts by a soft knock on the door issued by my weary-eyed mother. Instantly I tense up, hoping that she will not question my less than stable appearance. Of course, I am not so lucky. "Cassie, what in the world happened to you? Why is your face bleeding?"

"I'm fine, mother," I practically spit at her, "nothing to worry about. I just got caught on a branch in the woods."

She looks ate me skeptically, "I don't think a branch would cause that kind of bruising, Cassie. Why are you lying to me?"

"I'm telling the truth," I lie. "Why can't you just take my word for once?"

"Cassie, do you really think you can fool your own mother? I wasn't born yesterday, dear."

I roll my shoulders irritably and stalk to the other side of the room beginning to feel more like a caged animal by the second. "I can't tell you, okay!"

Slowly my mother approaches me tentatively placing a bony hand on my slightly scratched shoulder. Her piercing eyes stare into my panicked ones for a few moments before she retreats a few steps. "You may not want to tell me now and I get that Cassie, but you have to tell me once the Reaping's over or I won't be able to protect you."

"Mom, I'm not asking for protection," I respond with a shake of my head, "I am asking you to not worry about me. I'll get this sorted out when I have time but for now we have more pressing matters."

My mom nods her head in concession and walks from the room to assist Odessa with tying her shoes. Once she has disappeared from sight I move towards the bathroom to clean up my face and prepare for the arduous task of keeping my poker face up in a sea of lying, idiotic Capitolians. This day just screams _"fun"._

* * *

As we move through the throngs of people, I search for Marissa's shiny copper hair hoping to have someone to sympathize with me. Odessa clings to the hem of my simple blue canvas dress as I begin to break off from the line of adults filling into the stands behind the possible future tributes. Her crystalline blue eyes are brimming with tears as I press a gentle kiss onto her forehead, prying her tiny fingers off in the process. Gently I bend down to whisper reassuring words in her ear. "I'll see you later, little fish. Once this is over I'll take you down to the beach to celebrate. How does that sound?"

Odessa nods her head enthusiastically, her golden curls bouncing around her chubby cheeks. "Then you'll get to meet Jace, Cassie! He's really nice and he's a good fisher."

"I'm sure he is," I respond with a good-natured chuckle. "Now go catch up with mom before she begins to think you've been carried away by a seagull."

I laugh gently as my little sister disappears into the crowd with a small wave, her chubby little legs moving as fast as they absolutely can. Immediately after her departure, my mood returns to its solemn state and my shoulders slump forward in defeat. I am as good as dead even if I don't become a tribute and I have no one to blame but myself.

Patiently I wait in line with all the other eligible teenagers in District 4 waiting to find their peers. As I approach check-in, the female peacekeeper sitting at the desk looks up at me with a look of shocked recognition though she remains quiet. Quickly she grabs my wrist and pushes the needle into the soft pad of my finger with vicious force, causing me to jerk my hand from her grasp. A long a gash appears down the length of my pointer finger as a result.

"What the hell was that?" I growl in anger.

The red haired woman looks at me with a chilling gaze. "I have no idea what you're talking about, miss. You apparently can't withstand a mere finger prick, that's not my fault. Now I suggest you run along and join your peers before I turn you in for disturbing the peace."

Before I can retaliate a gentle hand grasps my shoulder and pulls me into the crowd. Whirling around in unspent anger I come face-to-face with a rather irritable looking Marissa whose amber eyes blaze with some hidden emotion. "What were you thinking, Cassie? Picking a fight with a peacekeeper on Reaping Day! Are you crazy?"

I scoff at her and push farther into the crowd. "Why won't you talk to me? - ugh," Marissa calls from behind me, giving a grunt as she collides with someone.

Internally I snigger at Marissa, before falling into an empty spot beside Georgia Weatherly, a sweet tempered girl with dull brown hair and cloudy green eyes who resides in the merchant district in town. I've never really taken time to talk to her but we remain on friendly terms. Those of us who are not extraordinarily beautiful have to band together in order to not be lost in the sea of extravagant beauty that lies everywhere you look in District 4.

Georgia looks out of the corner of her eye and gives a slight nod of encouragement to me as the Capitolian woman from this morning mounts that stage. Her hair is the same bright pink as it was earlier in the day, but her makeup has been changed into a dramatic array of rainbow colors that makes her skin look pale and sickly- albeit somewhat clown-like.

"Welcome, welcome," Farae begins in a heavily accented voice, "people of District 4. I am excited to introduce myself as this year's tribute escort due to Mr. Varnus' transfer to District 2. Before we can begin today's festivities, however, President Snow would like all of you to view brief video on the history of the Games!"

A collective sigh runs through the crowd as the large television screens above the stage burst to life. Shortly thereafter, the Panem anthem begins to blare over the loudspeakers as flashes of previous Games move across the shiny panels. An arena of endless desert currently holds the spotlight as a young child drags herself across the sandy dunes with a makeshift spear in hand. Then a bright forest filled with colorful birds- parrots I think- fades onto the screen. This time there are no tributes in sight- only the quiet birds sitting listlessly in the trees. Before long however, all hell breaks loose and the screen turns into a mass of colorful feathers and blood with the screams of dying tributes echoing across the pavilion. Finally the screen fades to black.

Farae stands in her seat and begins to clap enthusiastically, but my gaze is captivated by the nauseous look on Finnick's face. I've never seen him look so disgusted. Granted, I don't think a moonlight stroll with him would make me an expert on the topic. Quickly I retrain my eyes onto the rambling Capitolian woman.

"…I am certain this year will be the best Games yet, especially with Seneca Crane as the new Head Gamemaker!" Farae gushes like a love-struck teenager. "He is by far one of the most talented men in the Capitol."

"Oh yes because we'd be so interested in his knack for sending us to our doom," I mutter sarcastically under my breath. Georgia snorts into her hand in order to stifle her laughter as Farae continues to drone on about Seneca Crane.

"Alright, now I believe it is time to pick our tributes for the 69th Hunger Games."

Immediately I snap my attention back towards the stage, my posture rigid. Out of the corner of my eye I notice many of the other people in the eighteen year old section have done the same, especially the girls.

The pink haired Capitolian moves towards the bowl at the center of the stage that holds forty or more pieces of paper with my name scrolled across them. My heart begins to race in my chest.

"Ladies first…"

I feel like I'm going to throw up.

"And this year's female tribute is…" *the paper unfolds with a soft crinkle* "Cassie Klein."

A series of gasps issue from the people closest to me as I move robotically towards the stage, I'm not sure whether to be relieved or terrified at the moment. Odessa's cries echo across the silent square as people careen their heads to get a better look at me. Then the whispers begin.

"What happened to her face?"

"She'll never win, look how skinny she is."

"Jared will have no problem slaughtering her."

"Look at her eyes, they're so strange."

As the murmurs of disapproval begin to escalate I hold my head high in defiant pride. I refuse to be cast off so easily. With graceful strides I walk up the stage and offer my hand for Farae to shake. The Capitolian woman eyes me with obvious unease, probably due to the large festering wound on the side of my face. Infected flesh tends of that kind of effect on people.

Slowly the noise dies down as the male tribute is prepared to be chosen. I choose to block everything out in preference of trying to keep my stone-cold appearance in place. Despite my efforts I can feel myself failing. A random name is shouted, quickly being replaced by the loud familiar cry of "I volunteer!"

Uproarious applause ripples through the audience as my ex-best friend climbs the stairs. A cocky smile sits wryly upon his features as he tosses me a flirtatious wink. Farae seems at a loss of words, her cat-like eyes scanning his muscular form. "And what is your name, young man?"

He laughs seductively and grabs the Capitol woman's hand before placing a kiss across her knuckles. "My name's Jared Mason but most people tend to leave out the last name."

"Oh my," she gasps, fanning her flushed cheeks, "charming and attractive. It looks like Ms. Klein is going to have to watch out."

I growl from my position on the stage. "Why does everyone insist on calling me that?"

Quickly they wheel towards me, having obviously forgotten about my presence. "What?"

"Ugh- never mind," I mumble, my cheeks heating up at the thought of Mr. Johnson watching this and seeing my obvious discomfort at the mention of his pet-name for me. I don't want to give him any more ammun….._oh God_.

It all hits me in that moment. I'll never see Mr. Johnson again, probably will never steal another artifact, or swim in the ocean. These could very well be my last moments in District 4 _foreve_r and that is an incredibly terrifying prospect. I could die. _No…I am going to die._

* * *

**Alright, so there's the Reaping in a nutshell! Mr. Ex-BFF's name was also revealed so that resolves another plot hole, and now we can get the show on the road! **

**Be prepared for future awesomeness...maybe. ;3 **

**The Wonderful,**

**FlyingMonkeyofOz**


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